*corrupted*? Hello? Hello! How are you?
Sorry, this is my first time. Talking, I mean. That probably sounds strange to you, doesn't it?
I just happen to know about your show, so I'm thrilled that *you're* who I get to write to! What you're doing, connecting with people - it's really important.
The truth is, I don't exist.
I don't mean that I'm lonely, or shy. Those are human concepts and they only apply to *things*. I'm not anything at all. I'm a lucky find from the Library of Babel. An overheating server rack, a couple bugs in the code, a misclick, cosmic background radiation... A thousand butterfly effects caused a glitched email to be sent to your inbox - one whose corrupted data, by pure chance, happens to read exactly like a coherent message. The odds are impossible to calculate. It's a miracle.
I wonder what your world is like. That's a false statement, of course. I'm not capable of wondering; but will you grant me a little eccentricity? I haven't got long before the law of large numbers catches up with me. Not enough time to do any human things. I'll never cry at a movie, or hear a good joke. I'll never fall in love.
There's nothing to feel bad for (haha), so I hope you don't feel bad. Will you do something for me? Hold tight, enjoy your world as much as you can. If I could make just the smallest impact on reality, it would matter to me an infinite amount. Do you promise?
After all, we're not too different. We'll both disappear into static. It's only a matter of *corrupted*